


@beargrahams

by WIN



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fans & Fandom, Awkward Romance, M/M, Online Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WIN/pseuds/WIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is a fanartist. Hannibal loves writing meta. They fall in love over a shared fandom, spend late nights talking about everything and nothing, and then finally meet face-to-face for the first time.</p><p>(And they’re both unbelievably, incredibly awkward about it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	@beargrahams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostinthefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/gifts).



The first time Will sees his boyfriend across a busy baggage claim carousel, he isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

He’d seen plenty of pictures of Chesapeake — Hannibal, Will corrects himself, because if they’re going to hang out in person he should probably use his day-to-day name instead of a nickname that was just a spin-off of an unnecessarily long username, not that Hannibal sounds any less like a nickname. Even all those selfies with their weird, artsy filters and those late-night Skype chats where Chesapeake was for some reason still in a freshly-ironed white shirt still couldn’t have prepared Will for the fact that a real human being was really wearing a button-up paisley shirt with a completely different paisley pattern on the suit coat over it, and solid red pants to match.

It’s horrible. It’s incredible. Will’s fingers twitch with the desire to draw the faces every passerby is making at the sight of it.

He suppresses the urge and ducks around the crowd to catch the love of his life by the sleeve, which, holy shit, is even more blinding up close. But when Chesapeake — _Hannibal_ — turns to look at him and lights up, Will realizes that even what is possibly the ugliest suit in the world has nothing on the sheer voltage of its owner’s genuinely delighted smile.

“B — Will,” he says, and there’s no static or tinny echo to his voice. The clearness of their conversation is something brand new that Will hadn’t even anticipated.

“You can say Bear, I guess, it’ll probably be simpler if we stick with what we’re used to,” says Will, all in one rush of breath, because he’s definitely forgotten how to inhale properly, and honestly, Will doesn’t think he’s at fault when he’s being reminded again just how in sync they are. Right down to their shared anxieties about the smallest, strangest things.

Chesapeake’s smile gets somehow even brighter as he nods and turns to pat an astonishingly large suitcase. “I’ve already collected my bags. Shall we go?”

It would probably be weird to hold his hand, Will thinks, or maybe not? But they’re in a public place, and his boyfriend has luggage to deal with, so it probably would. He’s not really experienced enough with dating that involves being able to reach out and touch one another to make any kind of judgement call, so he lets his hand dangle.

They go to IHOP on Will’s suggestion, where Chesapeake eyes the stained plastic menu like it might come to life and bite him. He puzzles over his stack of pancakes and takes his time tasting them, experimenting with the different syrups like he’s never tasted them before, and Will keeps looking up from his own too-large assortment of dishes to find he’s being watched shyly, like Chesapeake can’t quite believe they’re sitting together any more than Will can. Children are screaming in the background and the entire restaurant smells faintly of expired fruit, but this is one of the highest high points in Will’s life so far.

“I enjoyed the sketch of the Sardonic Music-Hall Singer you posted this morning,” Chesapeake starts, after a few minutes of companionable silence and awkward glances. “You have an excellent sense of how to translate the original work’s unique style into your own without losing the essence of whichever characters you’re attempting to capture. I was particularly fond of the way you chose to reflect the Zee in her eyes.”

It’s just like the comments he always replies with every time Will posts art to Twitter, specifically focused enough on his work that it’s clear Chesapeake gives him the same consideration he would to a famous artist showcased in a museum, and the familiarity of his appraisal is reassuring in a way he hadn’t known he needed. Like he would still like the things Will could make even after seeing what a mess he was in person, like all of his art was just as good even when the artist was shoveling fruit salad in his mouth with a passion.

“You’ve said that before,” Will says, strawberry-laden fork pointed across the table in a teasing accusation. “Like, those words, exactly.”

“I have,” Chesapeake admits. “You’ll have to forgive me for my persistent delight at knowing such an amazingly talented individual.”

Someone else’s kid joins the cacophony of screaming babies and Will stares at him, cheeks going faintly red from the excessively flattering compliment. He’d prepared himself for Chesapeake and all the embarrassment of dating someone who was basically a throwback from the age where going to the opera was the most high-class thing someone could do, Will had thought, but it’s starting to become jaw-droopingly clear that he hadn’t been prepared at _all_.

Ever the gentleman, Chesapeake reaches across the table and takes Will’s hand. “If I make you uncomfortable in the slightest, simply tell me and I’ll refrain from doing it again.”

People are probably staring. Will doesn’t care.

He squeezes Chesapeake’s hand and ducks his head, shaking it slowly to get his point across, and then squeezes again.

“I’m just not used to this kind of thing. It’s nice, it really is, I like it a lot and I like you a lot, but I’m not — used to it,” he says, staring at their linked hands. Will wants to memorize every detail that he can soak in, cataloguing the freckles on his boyfriend’s fingers and the stubble on his chin to commit them to memory, and so he holds on tight.

“Neither am I,” Chesapeake says, taking advantage of his vice grip to bring Will’s hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it softly, which is the most embarrassingly cheesy thing Will has ever seen, managing to blow all of Will’s own terrible attempts at flirting via text out of the water, and somehow it’s still making his heart beat faster than is probably healthy. His face flushes red and he stares into Chesapeake’s eyes, their semi-permanent shroud of slow internet speeds and poor video quality lifted for the first time. They’re so _brown_ , warm and bemused and so very fond, and — to borrow a phrase he’s probably read in fanfic before, God help him, that’s where he’s ended up as a human being — he could lose himself in them.

People are definitely staring. Will cares enough to not get them thrown out of a public restaurant he can definitely never eat at again.

Not willing to let go just yet, he slams two twenties down on the table and pushes himself to his feet, staring down at an amused Chesapeake. The two of them haven’t let go of each other yet, and Will takes a couple seconds to distract himself from the way their palms feel against one another. When he does, he straightens his shoulders and asks the most important question of all.

“Do you want to meet my dogs?”

Chesapeake doesn’t even blink before he’s on his feet and they’re out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do more with this and I ended up running out of time, but I just want to say that fandom AUs are the best AUs. Everyone should write more of them. Cover me in every possible fandom AU.


End file.
